About a Shirt
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: When Dean gets a new West Ham shirt, Seamus loves it almost as much as he loves his boyfriend- so much that Seamus steals it at every opportunity. So why is it such a sad day when Dean gives him the shirt?


_For the Love in Motion Challenge on the Hogwarts forum (slash: DeanSeamus)_

 _Word Count: 864_

* * *

I.

"Well?" Dean says proudly, adjusting the hem of his shirt. "What do you think?"

Seamus moves his eyes over Dean, taking a moment to appreciate how handsome his boyfriend looks. He doesn't understand the crossed hammers in the crest on the front, but everything else is perfect. The claret and blue against Dean's dark skin makes Seamus shiver.

"Perfect," Seamus says, running his fingers over the soft material. "What's with the hammers?"

"West Ham."

Seamus nods. He's spent the past four years listening to Dean talk about his Muggle passion, so he recognizes the name immediately. "Right. The, uh… toeball-"

" _Football._ "

"-club."

Dean rolls his eyes, a grin playing at his lips. He wraps his arms around Seamus, leaning down so that his head rests upon his boyfriend's shoulder. "You really like it?"

"It looks perfect on you."

II.

Seamus hesitates. It feels like a betrayal going through Dean's things. He knows he shouldn't.

But couples do it all the time. There's nothing wrong with someone wearing their boyfriend's clothes.

He snags the West Ham T-shirt, quickly changing into it. Dean is much taller than he is, and the shirt is baggy on Seamus, but it's perfect. Best of all, it still smells like his boyfriend.

The door to the dormitory opens, and Seamus spins around quickly, biting his lips lip guiltily when Dean steps in. His boyfriend stops in his tracks, brows raised as studies Seamus. "Really, Shay? My West Ham shirt?"

Seamus shrugs, smoothing out a crease in the material. "I think it looks rather nice on me."

"You don't even know what football is," Dean points out.

Another shrug. Seamus refuses to acknowledge that Dean has a point. "It looks good on me," he insists. "West Ham makes you happy. You make me happy. It's that simple."

With a laugh, Dean steps closer. "It's almost a dress on you," he teases, pressing a kiss to Seamus' forehead. "But you are pretty cute in it."

III.

"You know," Dean says as the Hogwarts Express leads them closer to London, "I can buy you a shirt like mine. Seventeen is a big birthday, right?"

Seamus keeps his eyes fixed upon the window, watching the countryside pass by in a blur of yellow and green. His fingers graze over the familiar blue and claret T-shirt that he can't bring himself to return to his boyfriend. After a brief moment of silence, he shakes his head. "Nah," he decides. "I don't even know anything about West Ham."

There's a soft _thud_ as Dean slaps his palm against the carriage wall. When Seamus glances up at him, his boyfriend rolls his eyes. "Shay, I already pointed that out," he laughs, his voice light and teasing. "So, why do you keep stealing my shirt?"

Seamus feels a faint warmth burn his cheeks. He tips his head to the side so that he can rest it upon his own shoulder. "It still smells like you," he says simply with a deep inhale to drive the point home.

Dean reaches out, ruffling Seamus' hair. "You're hopeless. I'm getting my shirt back."

With a groan, Seamus returns his gaze to the window. He'll have to return the shirt to his boyfriend eventually. But not yet. For a moment longer, he can still enjoy its warmth and familiar scent.

IV.

When the parcel arrives at breakfast, Seamus rips it open. The shirt that he's grown to associate with happiness and security rests inside beneath the wrappings. Seamus knows that it's not a different, newer one. The material is wrinkled and worn out, and the subtle scent of Dean- graphite from his pencils, cinnamon, and tea- clings to it.

"Your birthday isn't for another fortnight," his mother says. "Why on earth would Dean send your gift early?"

Seamus swallows as he understands. They've all heard the news, the terrible decree under this new Minister. He'd offered to keep Dean safe when they began calling on the Muggleborns for registry, but Dean had refused. He told Seamus that he would find a way.

It isn't a birthday gift, he realizes, ignoring the tears that cling to his lashes as he lifts the shirt and clings to it.

It's a goodbye gift.

V.

Neville's snores fill the dormitory, but the sound isn't what keeps Seamus awake.

Using a sliver of moonlight to see, he checks his watch, groaning. Nearly half past midnight. He needs to sleep.

But his eyes shift to the empty bed beside his, and his heart aches. The wall at the head of the bed looks so strange without the strange, unmoving West Ham poster pinned to it. Worse still, there is no Dean, and this is why Seamus cannot drift to sleep. His mind races, as it's done since Dean took off.

Seamus sighs and sits up. He's long since stopped stashing Dean's shirt away in his trunk; having to dig it out each night eventually got old. He plucks the comforting blue and claret from where it drapes over his headboard, drawing it to his chest.

It's a poor substitute for the boy he loves, but, until this war is finally over, it will have to he enough.


End file.
